Caudatus
by M. Welsh 'Myu
Summary: TsengxElena. Elena's not been doing so well since Meteor... she doesn't even have a place to live. When Tseng discovers this, he takes her home with him, and she ends up living with him. It's all business at first, but...
1. Discovery

The clock was driving her mad.

Its incessant ticking echoed in the hallways of the makeshift Shinra headquarters--empty, by now. No, not quite yet. Rufus would stay late, today, and wait for Reeve to return to the 'headquarters' and file a report for the day. Reeve was obsessed with filing reports. Anyway, Rufus seemed to be fond of putting down Reeve, whose efforts that were actually for, shock and awe, the better of the people, were apparently costing a fair bit, and this was about the time they would be finishing their semi-weekly struggles.

As far as Elena could gather, though, these expenses were out of Mr. Reeve's pockets.

Why Rufus cared, Elena couldn't decipher.

Politics had never made sense to her anyway.

The main door slammed closed floor below her, sending a draft of cold air in to the office, and sending papers aflutter with it.

Elena sighed. Just like yesterday, she got up quietly to pick up the papers knocked askew by the wind, and just like yesterday, disposed of the dirty magazine unearthed by the papers' having been so rudely disrupted, in the nearest trash-can, and buried it under a soda can and a trashed_ Loveless _pamphlet for good measure. She hated sharing an office with Reno. It was rare that they'd both be there at the same time; however, Reno certainly made his mark.

She was STILL finding empty beer bottles and half-cartons of cigarettes in the weirdest places, even after Tseng had given him a strict talking to. Reno knew he could get away with it.

Bastard.

Though she didn't mind the cigarettes, actually. Elena had always hated smokers but recently had been finding herself smoking when she had nothing to occupy her mind with.

What the fuck had happen?

A few years back, she'd been enjoying a comfortable life--Special Shinra forces, then the Turks. A good place to live, good food, a bed to go home to.

Some still had that. A few lucky ones and all of the remainder of Shinra, really.

Except her.

Sure, Reno and Rude had to share an apartment and money was much tighter then usual, all around, but Reeve and Rufus and probably Tseng had it good and even if if they didn't, at least they had a place to live and a vehicle to drive.

Didn't have to curl up in a roll out futon with a rough blanket in the corner of their offices and take half a bottle of sleeping pills just to fall into a restless half-sleep that left one feeling hungover in the morning but without the nice haze of alcohol before the crash. Didn't have to smoke to keep themselves from hurting themselves out of frustration with worse things then tobacco.

Stupid Shinra. She was sure her pay-check was much smaller as well. And that was saying something if Reno's bitching was a hint.

Her cell-phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked up at that stupid clock. Everyone would be gone now.

Sleeping pills time. She slid her key in the bottom drawer of the locked file cabinet, and groped around for a few seconds before wrapping her hands around the bottle. Damn, it was almost empty. She was up to eight pills for an hour of tossing and turning before getting about six hours of something vaugly resembling sleep. Partly, because her body had become addicted to them, but taking any more would kill her liver faster then drinking hardcore, Reno-style. Not that it really mattered so much anymore, but if she was going to die, it would be best to do it all in one go rather then slowly.

But without the pills, there were the nightmares.

How god-damned lame. That sort of thing happened in silly comic books and children's TV shows that tried to be cool but were just downright cheesy and stupid and showed on TV on weekend mornings that were the bane of parents with a shred of inteligence everywhere, not in real life.

But every night she slept (or tried to, anyway, in a rare fit of realization and actually caring what she did to her worn body) without the aid of those pills, once she finally fell into the puddle of sleep, she would relive the events of the North Crater,

Kind of. There was pain, like being shocked with electricity and burned with fire at the same time, the hot, salty-metallic taste of blood in her mouth, the feel of it spilling over her face and chest, someone laughing at her, kicking her as she writhed on the rough cavern floor...

More painful then a vivid mental retelling, she couldn't remember a thing when she was awake. Not about the events in the North Crater, being tortured, if that's what really happened, really, she barely remembered having been saved. How did that happened, anyway? She remembered someone with dark hair bent over her, holding something that glowed, and then waking up in a grubby hospital bandaged and bruised, but from there back, things were hazy.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to remember, but it felt wrong to not remember things, especially something so important! How could she just _forget_? She'd never been a forgetful one.

Elena's eyelids were drooping now, and she tipped the bottle of pills into her hand, only to have it slip out of her limp hand and fall, rolling off the desk, to the floor in front of her desk with a loud clatter. They rolled under her desk.

The were footsteps. Heavy ones, in the hallway, right outside her door.

If there were any deer left in Midgar, and they got caught in the headlights of one of those damn big-ass trucks that were everywhere now, that would be the expression on her face to a tee, as the door opened.

"...? Elena? What are you doing here, still?"

Oh god no. The door had opened to reveal, in all his glory, and damn, it was glorious, Tseng, current leader of the Turks, and, even after all this time, subject of Elena's long-standing school-girlish crush.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck. She was a disaster. Her coat and tie were off, her shirt was rumpled as was her hair, and let's not even mention the makeup. Her eyes were ringed with black, and the long dead butt of a cigarette was tucked into the corner of her mouth lazily. Like a man. A slobby man. Slobbier then Reno drunk off his ass.

"Er... I was just finishing something. Nothing, really. I'm about to go."

"Hm." He looked somewhat unconvinced but thankfully likewise unfazed by Elena's diasterous appearance. "I see Reno's bad habits have rubbed off on you." She blushed furiously. "Can't really blame you, however, Elena."

You could have, for a lack of a better metaphor, fried a chocobo egg on her face.

"I forgot to drop something off in Reeve's office. It's very late, you know." He narrowed his eyes. "Not really safe for someone like you to be out alone." She knew he meant because she was a women and a rather small one at that but she had a pang of guilt as though he knew what she'd been doing to herself. "Perhaps I should take you home." Not a question. Not really a command, either... Kind of a... Invitation?

"It's all right, sir. I can manage."

He raised his eyebrow farther, if possible. "I wouldn't want to lose a Turk. It's a long walk to the residential district."

"I, I can manage."

"_Elena_, I'm not leaving knowing you are going to be walking home in the dark in one of the slummiest parts of town."

Oh, fuck, again. Of the list of all the people she didn't want to know that she was essentially homeless, Tseng was right below Reno, and only because Reno wouldn't reserve verbal judgement.

_"Er, I've been staying here?"_ she replied, awkwardly. This was very quiet; she could barely hear herself.

"...What?"

_Please don't make me repeat it..._ "I've been staying here, damn it!" She stood up rather abruptly and pounded the desk top, sending a pencil jar and a pin-up flying. "I can't afford anywhere to stay, all right!" Despite herself, she collapsed back in to her chair, and, to her utter dismay, started sobbing rather uncontrollably."

There needs to be more words for 'uncomfortable', which is what Tseng very muchly was, though times three or four. Mostly at Elena's outburst. Elena had always been very peaceable, and had complained exactly once she had become a Turk. Tseng prided himself on caring for his Turks, and it bothered him that he had never noticed she had problems. He would have solved them. He shifted his weight, and swallowed hard before answering.

"... How did this happen?"

"You know already! Shinra has always hated women! It's a lie if they say otherwise!"

Tseng blushed. "That's not true."

"Right." This was muffled, as Elena had her face under her blazer.

"I didn't. I will have to speak with him."

"... mmrgh."

"Er. You could..." Hotel? Not a chance. Never. That would be asking for disaster. "... Stay with me for tonight...?" Wonderful. That sounded so inappropriate. Very much not the intent.

"...I'll be fine here."

"It's going to _snow _tonight. This building has no heat. And it's not safe for you to stay here at night. That aside," he blushed even more deeply, "I have two bedrooms, and the doors are locked. It's not like..."

How the hell did he get an apartment with two bedrooms? Her old apartment had been one room, and didn't even have a bathroom.

She was too worn out and embarrassed already to open her mouth. She nodded miserably, and got up, tugging her tear-and-mascara stained coat across her back.


	2. Discomfort

Tseng was right; it **was **going to snow. In fact, as Elena miserably padded behind him, it started. Not the fun fluffy stuff to grab handfuls of and chuck jokingly at co-workers, not that anyone save maybe Reno was feeling up enough to even consider such a thing, but the frigid, wet stuff that got in everywhere and chilled quickly and deeply. She dug her hands into her pockets and shivered violently, half-glad Tseng had caught her in the Shinra building. He doggedly waded through the snow already on the ground, no one having shoveled the sidewalks; no one really cared about that sort of thing anymore even if the Geostigma, Star-scar, whatever they called it, was eradicated; there were more dire things to be preoccupied with. Elena winced as they passed an amaranthine blood-stain in the snow—one thing that _hadn't _been eradicated was the violence that came with. She might be a Turk, but as a person, it bothered her, just a little. They stopped in front of a motorcycle that was nearly as dirty as the street it was parked on. 

"You don't have a car, sir?"

Tseng merely shook his head and grunted. He fished around for a bit in a pocket for the keys, and tugged on a pair of gloves.

"It's probably more convenient anyway, with the streets covered in snow." He straddled the bike and motioned for Elena to do the same. She reluctantly did so, and gingerly put her arms around him.

"You'll fall off. Hold on tighter." Blushing furiously, she did as instructed.

He kicked off and Elena nearly fell off. Tightening her grasp further, she screwed her eyes shut. She hated motorcycles unless she was driving them. And even then...

-;-

"It's very neat."

A weary ghost of a smile played on Tseng's lips as he hefted Elena's duffel bag through the doorway, setting it down to remove his shoes and put on slippers. "Indeed. I'm not here often anyway."

There was a pristine couch and a coffee table, a cabinet and an open kitchen, as well as a hall-way Elena assumed held a bathroom and the bedrooms, and an open kitchen. It was small, and very neat, the walls a dingy white, but clean, the carpet the same. It felt unlived in, nevertheless. Elena sat down on the couch.

"Are you hungry, Elena?"

"No..." More queasy then anything. Partly from the motorcycle ride, partly from realizing the situation she was in fully. She curled her legs under her, while Tseng went about his own business in the kitchen, and despite herself Elena's eyes drooped and she started to nod off.

-;-

"Ah! Stop, st, sto—! Gh— AHHH!"

Laughter, not the good kind, that laughs at a funny good joke, or even the slightly mean laugh at a classmate or coworkers' clumsiness—a sadists' laugh, like one someone who gets off on pain would emit. A dull, throbbing pain repeated itself ad nauseum in her head, contrasting with a sharp, electrical pain shooting through her back, and the sharp metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She screamed out loud.

"Elena!" A warm, almost comforting feeling draped over her. Someone put an arm around her, pulling her upward off the ground.

"M...om...?"

"Elena, Elena, shh. Stop flailing and screaming. Drink this." A hand gripped her chin and forced it upward. She grudgingly opened her mouth; something cold, but that burned was poured in. She sputtered and choked.

"Elena, Elena! It's okay. Shh." They stroked her damp hair, and she fell into a merciful darkness.

-;-

She woke up with a start, a snap, like a briefcase or cellphone closing.

"Hngh?" Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. Wait... Where was her coat and tie, and where...?

Oh! She got up quickly and started folding the blanket that had been thrown over her.

"Good morning."

"Oh, sir! I'm sorry I slept so long. Good morning."

Tseng's face was disgruntled. "I just spoke with Rufus."

"Yes?" She was hopeful, despite his facial expression.

"You will be staying her for a while."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. Apparently, that was the original intent..." He narrowed his eyes. "I am surprised."

"I—I see. Well. I guess it can't be helped." Her face reddened more then a few shades. Not what she wanted by far. "What time is it?"

"No work today," he muttered, going into the kitchen and opening the fridge. "Where did you go on the weekends, anyway?"

"Oh, anywhere. Sometimes I tagged along with Reno and Rude. Libraries, usually."

He poked his head out of the fridge. "Midgar has... how long has this been in here...? Libraries?"

"Only a few still. They're quiet, though." She straightened her shirt as best she could, and put on her coat. No need to look slobbier then she already did.

"Hmm." He closed the refrigerator and stepped out of the kitchen. "Looks like we'll be eating elsewhere. I have nothing eatable in my kitchen." He help his hands up apologetically.

"It's fine."

"You will want a scarf. It's colder then usual."

"Okay..."

"Elena?" He was tugging his own scarf on. "You... Aren't uncomfortable, are you?"

"N-no! Of course not. It's only for now, anyway." She smiled, really smiled, and realized she felt kinda good. Just kinda. "It's fine, really. I'm grateful."

Tseng also smiled slightly, but said nothing.

-;-

And that was how Elena, the only female in the Turks, and the only female still in Shinra, and lowest one at that, ended up living in the apartment of her boss, and, she had to admit, as childish as it was, crush, Tseng, leader of the Turks and right-hand man to Rufus Shinra.


	3. Discontent and Ramen

"Is here acceptable?" 

Elena hurried to catch up with Tseng, and see which shop he meant. It was a fine morning, snow and ice glistening on the pavement like jewels or shards of glass, and she'd been living with Tseng two weeks now. She was feeling and looking better, though she still was disturbed occasionally by nightmares and needed to take some sleeping pills, which she was otherwise holding off on. It was obvious in her demeanor and her face however that things were going much better for her, and even Reno and Rude noticed, occasionally holding a filthy conversation or two about it while they sat in their favourite bars getting drunk off their asses in the evenings.  
Tseng tended to run out of things worth eating, and neither of them could cook anyway, so it was often they would wonder into Midgar's Wutasian district, which was near his apartment, to find something to eat in the morning. It was a udon-ramen shop like any other on the street, but not one they'd ever tried before.

"Yeah, here's good!" She smiled beatifically. "Maybe the ramen will be spicy enough this time." Tseng almost smiled as well, which was a rare thing for him, she'd noticed.

Elena stuck close to him as they went in. Wutaisians scared her slightly. Partly in how they stared. She couldn't understand a word of course of what they said, but she could get the general feeling. It was not a nice one. Jealous... At him? At _her?_ About why would he pick a Midgarian girl over any of them? Just because he's Shinra he thinks he's too good? She didn't know a word, so she couldn't be sure, and they didn't know their real relationship either; it was purely one of business.

Well...

In his mind anyway. Elena tried to fight it, but the more she was with him, the more she thought about him. Him and a girl like her? It was stupid. He probably iwould/i pick a pretty Wutasian girl. Certainly not a girl like her. And she needed to stay professional. Professional, dammit! It was hard not to think about him like that anyway.

She felt a little disgusted with herself.

_"One soy and one spicy ramen, please."_ It was practically tradition. It had been repeated so many times over the past few weeks that she knew how what the unfamiliar, beautiful-sounding words meant. The lady behind the counter, grinning, asked him something that sounded mean-spirited, and he replied shaking his his head with a facial expression that was amused but demanded, a little more respect if you please.

"What was that?", she inquired, as he turned away with a receipt.

"Nothing at all. Just commenting on the weather."

Elena had a feeling that that was not what it was but said nothing. She shoved her hands into her pockets while Tseng chatted with another man also waiting for his order.

_"Number seventeen?"_

"That would be ours."

He went and fetched it, looking slightly relieved as they left the shop.

"Should we head to the park?"

The sun was warm on her back, despite the world of lower Midgar being covered in unbudging ice, so she nodded.

-;-

"Hey, Tseng," she asked, through a mouth of noodles, "What happened in the Northern Crater?"

Tseng almost dropped his chopstick full of ramen, but managed to regain composure before answering.

"Why do you ask?"

Elena looked down at her toes and shrugged. "...I don't remember."

"Probably for the better," he replied tonelessly. "Gift from the Ancients?"

"I'd rather know then have a void of memory! It makes me feel so stupid!"

Tseng winced. "I would trade with you in a moment. Some things... Should just be forgotten."

"But..." Tseng put a hand up. "Forget it, Elena. It's past. Don't dwell on it." He scowled.

There was a moment of uneasy silence.

"Hey... What did that women at the shop say to you, anyway?"

Tseng's facial expression lightened noticeably. "Ah, she wanted to know why I would stick with a Midgarian when one of my own would be better."

Elena reddened. "What did you say?"

He looked vaguely amused. "That I wasn't interested and liked you fine."

"Something the matter?"

"No... Nothing. Just amused." _And happy, of course. So many other things you could have said, Tseng._


	4. Buried in Snow

_Author's note: http/ (If the webpage is down, wait a while, it'll come back.)_

--

"Fine, sir. As soon as I remove my bike from _four feet of snow._ "

"...Ah, yes, I thought you might. Thank you. Good day."

Tseng closed his cell phone and smiled slightly in Elena's direction--that is, on the couch in Tseng's living room. Outside, it was snowing and snowing _hard_ as it had been since four in the morning when Elena'd woken up to deal with the trash and discovered she couldn't get the frickin' back door open. Tseng had woken up shortly after and made an attempt, too--but the snow was piling up like papers on Reeve's neglected desk (damn him, always causing more work for the Turks with his absence) and if they couldn't even get the back _door_ open there was no way they'd be able to dig out Tseng's bike, let alone get it down the street. Rufus had of course called to bitch--Tseng had just won a verbal spat with him.

"Is it me or is it really cold in here?" Elena queried. The apartment was usually cold of course, it wasn't exactly Shin-ra employee housing and that wasn't saying much at all but at least those had been _warm_, but it was decidedly more frigid then usual.

"Yes, it is" replied Tseng, in his usual noncommittal way. "Put on a sweater."

Elena nodded. "I'll be right back; I'm going to go change."

Elena returned a few moments later in looser, warmer clothing, with a shirt whose sleeves fell down almost to her fingertips. She felt a little slouchy, but it was too cold to worry about that. Tseng was in the kitchen making tea like he always did in the mornings on weekends, so Elena left to her own devices went to the neglected bookshelf.

"You have a lot of books, Tseng."

"Mmphm."

"They're dusty..." She ran a finger along the tops of the books on the top shelf. "Haven't you been reading them?"

"Not those." He poked his head out of the kitchen, kettle and one of his queer handleless teacups in hand, "Those are old books of mine. Had them around for quite a while."

"Huh... This looks interesting..." She tugged a book free, only to dislodge another, rather small, tomb that had been placed on the tops of other books rather then shelved properly.

"Elena, be careful!" He exited the kitchen with his tea and sat down on the couch. Elena picked up the smaller book to return it, but as she went to do so, several pages and a photograph fluttered to the ground.

"Oh no..."

"Eh?"

"Some of the pages..." Elena picked up the book and the yellowed pages and and carefully deposited them in Tseng's lap. The words on the page were marked with pointed and hard handwriting, she noted, the original text as well as the notes not being in the common language's script, but in...

"Is that Wutasian?"

"Yes. It's an old book of mine. Don't worry about it, the pages fell out long ago. ... Something is missing..."

"Is this it, Tseng?" She held up the old, creased photograph.

Tseng took it from her, face twitching but voice calmer. "Yes. Thank you."

"Who are they?" She flopped down next to him to examine the image he held in his hands.

"Oh, is that you!" In the middle, off to the side, was indeed Tseng; younger, smoother face, hair shorter and tied back, but unmistakably him.

"Mm-hm."

"And that's Reno and Rude, isn't it!" Rude had no facial hair and was noticeably younger. Reno looked like he did now-- how he managed that, she didn't know, the way he treated himself. She _knew_ that hair was fake...

"Of course."

"And who's he?"

Tseng's expression hardened and seemed to mist over; he looked away from her and stared at the blank wall hard for a moment before answering.

"Veld. My old boss."

"I've... Never even heard of him."

"He was mostly in charge of getting things done, not doing them. Veld was not very well known to common people outside of Shin-ra. I believe he liked it that way...And after..."

Elena shifted with no small amount of discomfort, realizing how uncomfortable Tseng was with the subject.

"And...?" She pointed to the row of people standing behind Tseng and Veld.

"...Saint, Samantha, Durman, Rafe, Cyr and..."

"...Rosalind." The blonde-haired women with the perfect uniform and posture, eyes piercing as a single evergreen on a snowy field even in the faded old photograph, proud, serious, conservative hint of a smile. She looked like a prettier, more refined version of Elena, to her anyway. Elena had always wanted to be her; the resemblance was unintentional, but in attitude, she had strived to become her since day one of Shin-ra, even in the lowest ranks.

He nodded. "That's right. All of them were Turks before you."

"I idolized Rosalind when I was a child... She dropped away from sight by the time I moved from a Shin-ra grunt and joined SOLDIER... What happened to her, and to them?"

Tseng's eyes regained a faraway look, but a distinctly sadder--Tseng, sad? -- one. Elena regretted asking, and looked down at her jagged nails.

"...I'm sorry."

"Hmmm." He was looking away from her now, head propped on his hands, photograph held limply in his hand, book forgotten in his lap, lost in thought

"Tseng...? Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

"It's nothing. Nothing you did, anyway." He got up gathering the book and photograph together and wordlessly left Elena sitting terribly confused while he retreated to his bedroom, door sliding shut and lock clicking behind it.

What had upset him so much, anyway? Who was Veld aside from the former Turk leader, and why, even as a Turk, had she hardly even heard of him?

And what _had_ happened to Rosalind and the rest? Reno had certainly never mentioned them, even blind fucking off his ass _drunk_ like only Reno could become without passing out, not a word about any Turk save himself and sometimes Rude. Is that what happened if you died when you were a Turk? Did they never speak of you again?

Sometimes, she still felt like a total rookie.


End file.
